Sunday Funnies....on a Thursday

So I was planning to post all of these snippets of conversations with the girls on a Sunday when everyone is busy with family and not reading blogs.  They are probably only funny to Jon and me and maybe Jon's parents, but it's my blog and I can subject you to whatever boring topic I want.  Today it's dark and rainy and my mood matches.  Time to find something to smile about.  It's possible I'm also posting because my other alternative is to finish cleaning the storage room and the area under the stairs in the basement.

If you're in the mood for reading quotes from other people's children read on.  If not, then close the tab and move on to something more interesting.  That's the nice thing about the internet.  I can babble on and on all I want and no one is feeling like they are trapped on the couch unable to get away from me.

Anyway.  Funny kid conversations.  And commentary from me because...well...I like to talk.  Here you go....

Mer: Happy Smother's Day!
Completely appropriate coming from Meredith as she is clingy and I struggle with clingy.

Jocie:  Meredith, stop spitting.  That’s not nice!

Mer (blowing raspberries): I’m not spitting…. I’m cleaning off my tongue.

Me:  Mer are you picking my flowers again?

Mer: No.

Me:  Then why is there a flower in your hand?

Mer: (long pause) I don’t know.  Hmm.
 

For the last few months, Meredith has been regressing back to two-year-old behavior during church every week.  We've made some changes and it's getting better.  This was the conversation we had prior to the first week of better behavior at Mass.

Me: Are you going to be good at church today?

Mer: Yes!

Me:  And how do you do that?

Mer:  Be disrespectful…...

ONE WEEK LATER...

Me: How are you going to behave at church today?

Mer: Good!

Me: And how do you do that?

Mer:  Be disobedient.

Meredith isn't the only child who struggles with being good around here.  A few nights ago shortly before bedtime, Jocie was sent to time-out for failing to follow directions.

Me:  You need to go to time-out for not following directions.

Jocie(defiantly):  Then I'm SLAMMING the door.

Me (calmly):Then you'll go to bed instead of time-out.

Jocie (just as defiantly):  Then I'm NOT slamming the door.

Snark and sarcasm are my go-to defense mechanisms.  Snarky comments also tend to slip out when people ask silly questions.  I'm working on controlling that.  Sometimes I fail.

Mer: Are we going to eat those muffins?

Me: Nope.  We’re just going to look at them.  Don’t you think that will be fun?
Jocie: Actually we’re going to bake them first and THEN we’ll look at them.
 

I wasn't sure if Jocie was really in on the joke until a few days later, when I overheard this conversation...

Setting: Jocie was playing with felt food cookies.  She was adding sequin "sprinkles" to each frosted cookie when Meredith showed up and snatched the bag of sprinkles.  Jocie blew a fuse and both girls were reminded to find a way to work out their differences. 

Mer:  Tell me how many sprinkles I can have and I'll count them out.

Jocie:  Count to zero.

The city is doing some work on the sidewalks and so our normally busy street is closed off for a few days.   We walked up the street near where they were working yesterday and Meredith learned something new.

Mer:  How come they put a bank up there?

Me:

Mer: How come they put a bank there?

Me:  You mean the orange barricades? What bank??

Mer:  That green one up there in that street.

Me: Oh.  That’s not a bank.  That’s a portapotty.

 

 Meredith likes to sing to herself while she's playing.  I overheard this song the other day while she was coloring in her Sesame Street book.  It was quiet and I wasn't sure I'd heard the words accurately.  When I questioned her about it, she said the words were right, but it was Ernie singing to Cookie Monster.  The tune is The Farmer in the Dell.

Mer/Ernie:  Your mouth is way too big,

                        Your mouth is way too big
                        Your mouth, your mouth, your mouth, your mouth, 

                        Your mouth is way too big.

Me: Mer, you’re kind of crazy!

Mer:  You know……..I AM.

And just to prove it, she sang this while playing a few days ago:

Mer: Ring around the rosie, 

          A pocket full of craaaaa-zy, 

          Ashes, ashes, 

          We all fall down.


And on that note, I'll wrap this up (FINALLY- are you starting to get that trapped on the couch feeling?).  We're going to head outside to ride our bikes to the neighborhood park and try not to incur a head injury while playing on the wet and slippery climbing apparatus.  It's either that or stay inside and read.  Jocie managed to find and check out A Baby Sister For Frances AND Franklin's Baby Sister during today's trip to the library, so I think we'll risk the trip to the park.

Gratuitous unrelated photo so the header doesn't show when I share this post!

Belated Thoughts About Mother's Day

It looks like the Mommy Wars flared up a bit over the weekend.  I was away from the blogs I usually read for a few days so I'm a little late to the game.  It looks like the battle this time seems to be over whether it's okay to share your emotions and opinions about Mother's Day. Should those who have much to celebrate openly enjoy the day?  Are they required to acknowledge those who are less excited about the day?  Should those who have poor relationships with their mothers or long to be a mother keep quiet about their pain?  Are they ruining the day for other if they do share why the day is hard for them?

I think Kendra of Catholic All Year has the answer for all sides in her post about opting out of mommy angst posted on Mother's Day.  The short version of what she says is this: Everyone is different.  Those differences don't take anything away from your life and experiences.  Make informed decisions about what works best for you and your family and then own those decisions.  I think this is advice that gets easier to follow as we age (that was the case for me), but it's definitely worth a try.   Following her suggestions everyone wins.

So next Mother's Day....

If you have one or two or ten kids and you want to take them to Disney World to thank them for all the joy they bring you, then do it.   Know that not everyone will approve or be happy for you, but rest assured that you've made the decision that works best for your family.

If you you have no children, are dreading sitting through another Mother's Day blessing at church and looking at all the celebratory pictures on social media and you feel called to remind others to be sensitive to those without children or mothers, then go for it.  Know that not everyone will agree with you and some will feel that you need to just stay quiet so they can enjoy their day.  Take comfort in knowing that you've made the decision that works best for your family.

If you want to start the day eating breakfast in bed prepared by your husband and kids and follow that up with a fun day together doing your favorite things, but prefer to keep those memories to yourself and not share them with the rest of the world (perhaps out of deference to a close friend or family member that struggles with this holiday), then that's exactly what you should do.  Maybe your social media friends won't understand why you didn't post a picture of your happy family, but they don't need to know anything beyond the fact that you did what you know is best for your family.

If you have a really awesome mom and you want to shower her with flowers, take her out for dinner and post a bunch of pictures to let all your Facebook friends know how much you love and appreciate her, then have fun doing that.  Know that those friends who have a strained or nonexistent relationship with their mom might not like your photos and some might choose to make a snarky comment.  Ignore those comments (or pray for the authors of those comments) and know that you made the decision that is best for you and your mom.

If Mother's Day brings up unpleasant memories or emotions for whatever reason and you choose to stay away from all reminders of the day, then do what you need to do to make it through the day.  Just know that those aren't the experiences of everyone else and not everyone is going to join you in your boycott.  Some people might even be offended by your choice.  And that's okay.  Everyone is doing what works best for their family based on their personal experiences.

As for me?  I'll be doing what I always do - siding with the founder of Mother's Day.  I don't balk at celebrating because I've lost two children or because I have secondary infertility.  I just don't love holidays like Mother's Day.  I feel the same way about Valentine's Day and even my birthday.  I love accepting whatever homemade card or gift my girls have created for me because they wanted to - not because they are expected to.  I don't want my husband to do anything other than wish me a Happy Mother's Day because I'm not his mother.  I do want him to spend time with his mom on Mother's Day.  She is his mother and that's who he should shower with his love and appreciation.  I will include mothers of all types in my prayers because I can empathize with many of them.  I don't expect everyone (or even anyone) to agree with how we celebrate the day.  But I'm content with our choices.  It's what works for our family.  If you don't like how we celebrate or if you chose to celebrate (or not celebrate) in a different way, that's what you should do.  It doesn't take away anything from my day.  I hope you enjoyed yours .....or survived it, if that's the case.

And now, that I've typed this all out, I'm going to sit here and think about whether I really need to throw myself into this particular debate.  If you're reading this, then I probably haven't made a good decision.  What can I say?  I'm human.  I make a lot of bad decisions.  I've also been staying up till midnight reading books for the last week so that is further impairing my judgement.  Maybe if I can learn to go to bed earlier, I'll learn to be a more responsible blogger.  Maybe.

SQT: Lessons Learned

I'm linking up with Kelly and playing with the big kids this week....but I'm also chickening out and linking up late so no one will click on my link.

We're done with formal homeschool lessons for the year at our house, but that doesn't mean the learning has stopped - especially for me.  Here is a sampling of what I've learned this week:

~1~

When my 4 year old opts to throw a tantrum during daily Mass and balks at the conditions that must be met before returning to the pew, there is likely to be a lot of screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth....and not just from me.  People shut the doors to the entryway and glared at me.  The elderly couple sitting in the cry room that I was unable to use because they were sitting in it glared at me.  Eventually, I retreated with the whirling dervish to the basement.  After the Agnus Dei she became bored and realized she wasn't going to win that battle and chose to return on my terms.

~2~

The nice lady from our parish that agreed to let me bring the girls with me to help serve a funeral dinner on Friday has likely never seen my four-year-old at Mass lately.  Thankfully, Meredith thought setting lots of tables and making lemonade was a lot of fun.  The promise of cheesecake might also have motivated her to be on her best behavior.

~3~

If you put eggs in a small pan to boil and then go sit outside and forget that you are boiling eggs, they will eventually explode once the water has boiled off.  Fortunately Jon smelled the burning eggshells and turned off the stove before I burned the house down.  I heard the popping noise and was trying to work through why it sounded like someone was making popcorn.  Sadly, this is not the first time I've attempted to burn down the house with my "cooking" skills.

~4~

I need to do spring cleaning in the dead of winter.  Once it's nice out I have no desire to stay inside.  Sunny warm weather is for planting flowers, pulling weeds, and playing at the park.  We've had plenty of cooler, rainy days here during the last week.  Unfortunately, I run on solar power and my body feels strongly that cloudy rainy days are for reading books and snuggling on the couch.  I only have two rooms cleaned so far.  I tried to tackle a third one on Thursday, but somehow we ended up at the neighborhood park instead.

~5~

Somehow over the course of the last seven years of marriage, I have completely lost track of what foods I like.  I make the menu every week, write out the grocery list, and purchase all the food except the items I forget when I set my list down in the grocery store and can't find it and send my husband for the forgotten items one at a time as I need them.  I can tell you what meals are my husband's favorites (mostly Mexican dishes and anything grilled or containing a high meat to everything else ratio).  I can tell you what Jocelyn likes (everything except coconut, and especially spaghetti).  I can tell you what Meredith likes (everything, especially meals that make enough to allow her to have seconds).  I have no idea what I like.  Jon asked me what meal he could prepare for Mother's Day.  It took me a full 24 hours to come up with even one idea......and I'm still not sure it's a favorite.

~6~

My top preferences for homeschooling approaches are classical and unschooling, according to this quiz I took the other day.  The classical approach won by a landslide and that was no surprise to me.  I was lost in the sea of homeschool approaches and curricula until I read Susan Wise-Bauer's The Well-Trained Mind.  Everything fell into place so easily after that.  The fact that unschooling was my (distant) second preference was a shocker.  I thought I was really against that.  I like schedules and routine and ummm...control.  Maybe I don't know as much about what unschooling is as I thought I did.

~7~

This whole idea of "quick takes" is really hard for me. I'm not good at being short-winded.  If I'm going to tell a story, I'm going to tell you every detail and start at the very earliest point at which the story begins....or even before the story begins.  To those of you who know me in real life and have found yourselves trapped on a couch or on the phone with me forced to listen to every. excruciating. detail, I apologize.  I know I do it.  I know it's wrong.  And yet, I can't stop myself.  Maybe forcing myself to write shorter and shorter quick takes each week will be helpful to all of us.

A Prayer Request on Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day....for a few more hours at least. I've been trying to decide all day whether to post today or not. I could write about how infertility - even of the secondary variety - makes Mother's Day a hard day. Or maybe about how it feels to celebrate a holiday with only half of my children. I could write about the pain of that or about how thankful I am to have two living children to celebrate with. I could write to those of you with lots of kids reminding you how blessed you are.  I could tell a funny story about how Jon was going to make dinner tonight, but my indecision about the menu led to a miscommunication and we ate leftovers for dinner. I could write about how Meredith asked me to help her write spell the words for my homemade card (complete with a drawing of me making her a sandwich).

 I could write about any of those things. But I won't. There are others who have already written about infertility and/or miscarriage in relation to Mother's Day far more eloquently than I could ever hope to. Same goes for the posts about how fortunate we all are to have been blessed with the gift of children - whether we have 1 or 20.  The funny stories aren't long enough to make a whole post out of them - and they are probably only funny to me anyway. And to be honest, Mother's Day has never been one of those holidays that I get excited about.  I tend to shy away from the "Hallmark holidays" and all the consumerism and hype that go with them.

 I do have a few thoughts I want to share about an often ignored group of women. On this day, we we remember our mothers. We remember the moms that are here with us, the moms we've lost, the single moms who've raised their children on their own, the moms who have lost their children, and the women who long to be mothers. One group of women that isn't often included is the women who have chosen, for a wide variety of reasons, to abort their child.

Until nine days ago, I would never have thought to include them in my prayers on Mother's Day.  Throughout these years of infertility, I have unfortunately, developed a bitterness toward the women who are blessed with the opportunity to have a child and throw it away.  Then I talked to a nurse who was warning me not to pretend my baby didn't exist.  She told me how much harder it was for her to grieve her baby when she chose to do this with one of her miscarriages.  Then she said, "This must be how women who've had abortions feel.  They have to pretend that their baby never existed.  No wonder so many of them suffer from depression and/or substance abuse."

Even in my grief, that statement hit me hard.  I can grieve my babies.  I can talk to my husband about them.  I can tell my children that God gave us two babies and then took them to Heaven.  I have family members who support me through my grief.  I can blog about my experiences and complete strangers can empathize.  What about the women who aborted their babies?  Who do they turn to for support?  How do they get through days like today when everyone is celebrating mothers and they are trying to come to terms with what they've done to their child?

I ask you include these women in your prayers today and everyday.  It's easy for me to feel bitter toward women who have aborted their baby, but the truth is, I don't know what factors led them to that decision and I don't know what agony each of those women may be suffering as a result of that decision.  I do know that I can pray for them.  Please join me in praying for all mothers burdened with the weight of grieving for an aborted baby.  They need and deserve our prayers just as much as all of the other mothers we've honored and prayed for today.

Christian Michael

One of the issues that pains me the most with this second miscarriage is that I have nothing tangible to remind me of this baby.  This time there are no ultrasound photos.  My children have not (yet) drawn any pictures of him.  I haven't even had any physical pain.  With my first miscarriage I had about 24 hours of contractions.  This time, nothing.  I lost the baby too early for any of those experiences.

I'll admit the thought crossed my mind that it might be better to just pretend that the baby never existed.  I wouldn't have to be sad about losing him.  In a few months I wouldn't have to think about how far along into the pregnancy I would be.  I wouldn't have to be sad in January when my arms are still empty.  Fortunately, one of my doctor's wonderful nurses, did just that with one of her four miscarried babies.  She knew that I would be tempted to do the same and warned me that it is better to remember, honor, and grieve that baby.  If I don't do that now - and in lesser degrees for the rest of my life - the grief will manifest itself in other, less desirable ways at some point.

So I will do my best to grieve this baby's short life and to remember the few memories I have.  Once the miscarriage had been confirmed, Jon and I named the baby.  Christopher Michael was suggested, but we ultimately went with a somewhat more gender-neutral Christian Michael.  Perhaps someday I'll write about the challenges of choosing names for babies whose gender is unknown.

Had Christian lived, I would have shared details about the pregnancy and his birth with friends and family in far more detail than anyone would have wanted.  Having known about this pregnancy for only 1 day before suspecting that I was miscarrying, I don't have any of those stories to share.  God, in his infinite mercy, did gift us with one memory - a humorous pregnancy announcement.  Here's the story.  Bear with me, it's all I have.

I started suspecting I was pregnant on Sunday, April 26th.  I had been experiencing my usual pms headache on Friday and Saturday, so I had pretty much written off this cycle as a flop.  On Sunday, though, I had one symptom that had me wondering.  Monday morning is when the girls and I do all of the shopping for the week so I decided to venture into the pregnancy test aisle at Target.  Infertility has given me a stormy history with pregnancy tests and almost always buy them at the Dollar Tree so as not to waste as much money.  Unfortunately, Jocelyn can read and I didn't want her to ask questions about why I was buying a pregnancy test.  I thought I'd have better luck tossing one into the cart at Target undetected.  It was even easier than I thought as the end cap for that aisle was chock full of licensed character chapstick and body wash that held her interest.  After hopeful Julie and frugal Julie duked it out, I left the aisle with a box of pregnancy tests in my cart.  The $1.00 off coupon affixed to the box offered a compromise both sides of me could live with.

Once we returned home, I locked myself in the bathroom to take the test away from the prying eyes of a four year old who has little regard for the privacy of others.  Fortunately I'd selected the rapid response test that gives a result in one minute.  Sixty-one seconds after taking the test, Meredith began pounding on the door frantically.  She needed to wash her hands because she was worried she was going to miss the lunch I had not yet prepared.  Stunned by the faint positive result that appeared on the test strip, I let her in and hurried off to call my doctor's office.

Later that afternoon, I dropped the girls off at my sister-in-law's house and went to complete the necessary lab work and get a progesterone shot.  As I left the doctor's office, the nurse asked how I planned to share the news with Jon.  I hadn't given it any thought yet, but I figured I had a few hours to come up with something good.  I didn't do anything exciting with either of the girls and I was so shocked to be pregnant after 2 years of infertility last fall that I couldn't focus enough to think of a fun way to share the news.  But this time, I would prevail.  After all, I have a Pinterest account.  Pinterest solves every problem.....except for the ones it creates.  That's another topic for another day.

I stopped by my sister-in-law's house to pick the girls back up and ended up staying and chatting for awhile.  By the time I got home, I had about thirty minutes to consult Google and Pinterest for baby announcement ideas.  There wasn't time to create a dinner menu composed of "baby" food items.  Writing on my belly with lipstick seemed tacky  -- and impractical.  I've had two babies and I'm not skinny.  Writing on lumpy fat rolls would not be easy, nor would it likely be legible.  I quickly discarded several other ideas.  In desperation, I resorted to the "bun in the oven" cliche.  I had some hot cross buns leftover from Easter in the freezer.  I grabbed one and tossed it into the oven.

When Jon came home a few minutes later, I complained about how I didn't get anything done.  Being the ever-supportive husband (or maybe he wasn't really listening to me?), he told me that was okay.  After he wandered into the kitchen, I repeated my complaint and told him the oven was to blame.  That got his attention and he questioned why the oven was the cause of my laziness.  I told him to look inside.

He did and, after a beat, asked "Why is there a roll in the oven?"

"It's not a roll," I replied.

"Okay."

Silence.

"It's not a roll, it's a ........" I prompted.

"Umm," he thought.

"It's a hot.......cross............" I hinted broadly.

"Bun?"  Jon guessed.

"Yes, and it's in the oven."

I raised my eyebrows in encouragement for him to put it all together.

"A bun... in the.... oven," he whispered slowly.

The eyebrows went higher still.  "Say that again."

"A bun in the oven?"

"Yes.  I didn't get my work done because there's a bun in the oven!!"

"I don't get it," he said.

As it turns out, Jon was not familiar with that expression.  I scrambled to come up with a  Plan B so I wouldn't have to just blurt out the news.  I ran into the bedroom where I'd been hoarding Kohl's coupons and gift cards in hopes of replacing my collection of ratty T-shirts later than week.  I handed him the coupons and cards and told him he could have them because I wouldn't be able to use them.  He still looked confused, so I continued to explain that I couldn't use them because I can't buy clothes right now.

The lightbulb finally went off and we celebrated.  I, of course, had to ruin the moment a bit by reminding him that we shouldn't get too excited because this would probably end in miscarriage too.  As I've said before, I'm a realist.  Sometimes that trait really kills a fun moment.  Fortunately, we were too excited to linger on that for too long.

And that's the one fun memory I have of Christian Michael.  The next morning I woke up and noticed that the one symptom I had was significantly less noticeable.  I knew in my heart that I was losing another baby.  Two days later it was confirmed.

After I lost the first baby I told myself I wouldn't get excited about another pregnancy, knowing that I would likely not carry the baby to term.  I'm so glad I didn't follow my own rule.  If I hadn't allowed myself to be a little excited and hopeful, I would have no positive memories of this brief pregnancy.  Should I ever get to experience another pregnancy, I won't be scheduling doctor appointments weeks in advance.  I won't be dragging out the box of maternity clothes any earlier than I need them.  There are lots of things I won't do because I know how the pregnancy is likely to end.  What I will do, though, is be hopeful and celebrate whatever moments I am given.  If there is time to tell my husband I will plan something fun.  If there is time to tell the girls and other family members, I'll make it memorable and be excited.  I will cherish any ultrasound photos and rejoice in whatever pregnancy symptoms the day brings.  If God is gracious enough to bless us with a fifth child, then the least I can do is be thankful and appreciative of that great gift for however long He allows me to be that child's mother.

Sunday Comics

I grew up in a small town that published a weekly newspaper.  I enjoyed reading the daily comics in the paper from a larger nearby town as soon as my arms were wide enough to hold the newspaper open.  Newspaper ink was smudgy back then and we weren't allowed to set the paper on the carpet or the furniture.  That particular newspaper was larger than my hometown's but it wasn't large enough to have a Sunday edition.  We didn't have enough money to subscribe to a third newspaper.  I knew that the Sunday comics were longer and in color.  It was always a big treat to visit someone who did get the Omaha World Herald and pore over those colorful comic strips.....and those people tended to let me put the paper on the carpet or a table.  Maybe the bigger papers used better ink?  Or maybe the people we visited had to deal with dirty carpets after I left?  Anyway, since the Sunday comics are a fun memory from my childhood, I thought I'd share a set of funny drawings created by my five year old.

Jon's church has activity sheets for children that relate to each Sunday's Gospel reading.  The girls like to color them so he tries to remember to bring them each a sheet.  Here's one I found while picking up the clutter in the girls' room the other day.  Jocie usually doesn't like to draw so it surprised me that she drew in all nine faces on the sheet.  In comic strip style, let's break down the sheet frame by frame.

She definitely got the looks of shock, surprise, and a bit of fear right. 

I'm not sure what happened to the disciples' noses though.  

Perhaps they retracted in fear?

Again, she got the looks of happiness and love right.  

I'm not sure if the guy in the middle is Doubting Thomas or a whistling apostle.

I'm a little concerned about this one.  I might need to review the bible stories and verses we've studied this year so figure out why she drew the apostles so....so.....umm....bored?...serious?...apathetic?

And does anyone have any thoughts on the emotion of the third guy?  Is he sad or angry or afraid?

So in review, the apostles were scared that Jesus might be a ghost, happy that He was risen from the dead, and something other than happy to learn about scripture.

 I'm going to go read the Sunday comics on the couch because I'm a grown-up and I can....and because the ink doesn't bleed these days.  I wish you all a Blessed Sunday. 

Secondary Infertility is . . .(Part 1)

I've been contemplating writing for a long time, but I'm a perfectionist and I wanted to have the perfect first post and the perfect header, and the perfect profile.  I've started several blogs over the past 3 years but abandoned them without ever posting because the name wasn't witty enough or because I couldn't find just the right color scheme. Then today I remembered that this is a new blog with an audience of zero.  If it's not perfect, no one cares.

This isn't meant to be a blog about infertility or miscarriage but since that is a big part of my life these days, that will be what I write about some of the time.  I also have a great husband and two really fun daughters, so sometimes this will be more of a mommy blog.  My father-in-law sometimes tells me to return to blogging to document the funny things that happen in our lives so sometimes I'll do that.  I will try to be clear in my post titles and in the first few sentences as to which category each post falls. That way if you are here for the funny quotes from my girls or pictures from our park outing, you won't have to read all the sordid details of my broken reproductive system.  Likewise, if you are here looking for someone who understands all about the emotional roller coaster of infertility or the heartache of a miscarriage, you won't have to wade through all the cutesy kid stuff you are trying to avoid.

As I am currently waiting to miscarry a second baby, today's post will be heavy on the broken reproductive system and I'll save the kid stuff for another day.

After nearly two years of diagnosed secondary infertility and during a bout of insomnia brought on by my hormonal imbalance, I typed out a list of experiences and emotions that describe secondary infertility for me. I titled it Secondary Infertility Is......Kind of like the book Happiness is a Warm Puppy, but not quite as warm and fuzzy.  Over the last 18 months I've slowly added to the list here and there and it's quite a long list.  I'd like to take time to flesh out some of those experiences so I'll write about them a few at a time when I am feeling the need to share that information.  Here is the first installment:

Secondary Infertility is....

Feeling like God forgot about you.
Yes, I know this is very much untrue and yet it's so hard to not fall into this line of thinking when sitting at Mass at watching the large families file through the communion line.  I know what you're thinking: Close your eyes and pray during communion like you should be doing.  You won't have to see all the big families that way.  You are right.  That is what I do now.  But for about a year or so, the only way I could keep my two year old quiet during communion was to play "I spy babies" with her.  Exactly the game an infertile woman wants to play.  The things we do for our children.

Forcing yourself to go to playdates for the sake of your children.

This is some I used to do on a regular basis when my girls were younger.  I felt it was unfair to them for me to isolate them from other children just because I had a hard time talking to the other moms about their pregnancies and newborns.  After a few years, it just became too difficult and I quit doing it.  My girls play with their cousins and with our homeschool co-op families.  While they enjoyed playing with the other kids, they didn't fit into the group anymore as the other kids were all part of big families and played together frequently at other times.  In addition, I wasn't exactly a pleasant person after the playdate while I wallowed a bit in my self-pity.  It didn't seem fair to the girls or myself to attend these big playdates.  I handle smaller playdates with one or two moms much more easily.

Crying silently in the middle of the night so your husband doesn’t hear you.

Jon has been there for me throughout this experience and is always willing to offer a shoulder to cry on or listen to me cry, rant, hyperventilate, etc.  I haven't always wanted him to know, however, the extent to which this diagnosis affects me.  It's with me every single day and every single night.  Some of those nights my mind goes to dark, horrible places and I don't care to drag anyone there with me.  I have perfected the art of the silent cry.  You know, because I'm a perfectionist.  If I'm going to silent cry in the middle of the night, I'm going to be better at it than anyone.

Being jealous of the pregnant moms in children's books.

You know the books I'm talking about right?  Franklin's Baby Sister.  A Baby Sister for Frances.  The Berenstain Bears' New Baby.  My girls loved them all.  Sadly that phase hit right around the time of my first miscarriage.  The day after I learned I lost the baby, my daughter brought me Franklin's Baby Sister and asked me to read it to her.   I burst into tears and probably scared my three year old who didn't yet know about our baby.  That particular book is my least favorite of all the new baby books.  In addition to feeling silly for being jealous of a pregnant turtle, I feel ridiculous for being upset that the mommy turtle doesn't even ever look pregnant.  There's no bump, no larger shell, no swollen ankles or puffy face.  Just a calm, patient non-bloated turtle teaching my children that babies come in the spring.  I might not be as over that book as I thought I was.  Thankfully the girls have forgotten Franklin in their move to I Can Read books.  So far they haven't found any books entitled Henry & Mudge & The New Baby or Nate The Great and the Case of the Newborn.  I pray that continues.

That is just the tip of the iceberg of my giant list (which for those of you who know me is arranged chronologically and also by topic, but strangely NOT in a spreadsheet) but my children are up and I need to focus my attention on them for now.  I'll write more tomorrow.....or next week.....or whenever the Spirit moves me.